Light and Shadows
by Lady Nailo
Summary: A young woman taken from her home as a child and sold into slavery finds freedom at the hands of a cleric and his friends.


**Warning**: Contains some mature themes (rape, slavery, and violence). 

Author's note at the bottom. Enjoy!   
  


**_Light and Shadows_**

Sera brushed a lock of matted browning hair away from her eyes and strained to lift another heavy bag of grain from a pile that towered over her head. Her thin arms, bruised and scarred from the heavy iron shackle she wore, ached dully under the shifting weight of the grain sack, and a thin silver chain trailing away into the shadowy darkness of the brig tinkled musically against the damp wood under her feet. She looked toward the chain, sudden fear blossoming in her golden brown eyes; the magic tied into the chain bound her to the heaving ship she walked in, and a call from one of the masters would send it tugging her by wrist and ankle through the groping hordes of sailors manning the _Crossed Swords_ for this voyage. The chain fell quiet though, and she ducked her head gratefully, thanking Mother Durene for her mercy once again. 

The gods had shown her precious little of that mercy, especially since her former masters presented her to this ship's captain as a parting gift. The captain, Master Wade, had in turn given her to Master Marius, captain of the _Tidesweeper_ and one of the two ships that made up the _Crossed Swords'_ small following. Luck had chained her to the _Crossed Swords_ this morning, though, away from Master Marius's grasping hands and rough bed. With more of that luck, he would be too busy with the small ship anchored beside them, a long plank forming a walkway between it and the larger _Swords_, to take her. The bruises from the previous night were still fresh. 

Putting all of her meager strength into dragging the grain sack toward the square of light that was the brig's entrance stairway, Sera put all thoughts of mercy out of her head as she concentrated on her appointed task: the cook wanted six sacks of grain for that night's gruel, and would beat her mercilessly if she failed to bring him what he wanted. Three sacks were already piled neatly beside the kitchen's entrance, but Cook's pudgy face turned to a grimace when he commented that she wasn't moving fast enough, the skinny little bitch. Letting her hair fall in front of her eyes, Sera pulled all the harder, not wishing any strap-marks to join the still pink scars lacing her back. Her chain tinkled musically again, and she felt the inexorable tugging that meant someone was calling for her. She dropped the bag at once -- chain calls overrode any previous duties - and let the thin silver leash pull her where it wished. 

She didn't have far to go; the chain led her past the stairway leading up to the crew's quarters and through the rough iron door that partitioned off the prison from the storage area, through the wide center hall lined with bars where gaunt men and women in faded clothing stared at her with wide eyes. Three shadowy figures waited beyond a final barred door: two hulking sailors and the tall, striking figure of Marius. She bowed her head in sadness and subservitude; luck had abandoned her once again. 

"Hello, morsel," Marius's slow, drawling voice pierced the silence and a calloused hand took hold of her chin and drew her face up to his. He was smiling, a look of contentment and superiority in his light blue eyes and surrounding his wind-reddened cheeks. He had been outside recently; Sera could smell the fresh scent of browning leaves in his blonde hair. 

"You're turning," he continued, pulling her face from side to side as if inspecting a horse. "Your hair was lighter yesterday." She almost winced; summer colors were his favorite, when her hair matched the sun and her eyes were the greenish-blue of the open sea. With fall already well on its way, her hair was changing from yellow to auburn, and her eyes were already the gold her hair had been. A scared glance at his eyes showed that some of the contentment had faded, but not enough to elicit violence. Marius dropped her chin and pointed behind the sailors at the darkened room. 

"Special prisoner for you to look at," he said shortly, his mind obviously on more important things than the color of her hair. "Make sure she lives." His fingers pinched her backside as he propelled her forward on tiptoes to the towering sailors. The two men parted, grinning lecherously at her. Straightening the thin shift she wore, Sera knelt beside a small bundle on the floor. A lock of shining dark hair lay against the rough sack material; Sera pushed it aside and pulled the sacking away. 

It was a halfling female, eyes closed in sleep or unconsciousness. She wore fine clothing; a white blouse, now stained with dirt and blood, and long red skirt full with petticoats, sized perfectly for her petite body. Blood had seeped down her face from a cut above the left eyebrow and dried dark brown against her tanned skin. Sera bit her lip in concentration; there was a time when healing minor cuts and scrapes like these would have been the work of seconds, but the iron shackles that bound her body also prevented access to her divine abilities. Whispering a short prayer to whatever gods listened to her, Sera lifted the woman's tiny head and set it on her lap, heedless of the blood now seeping onto her worn shift. A bucket of water sat nearby; she reached for it and tore off a strip of the sacking to clean the halfling's wounds with. 

With the first gentle swab the woman's eyes opened; she hadn't been unconscious, after all. Wide blue eyes stared up into Sera's golden ones, showing fear, panic, and heart-wrenching sadness all at once. She cringed, and struggled with more strength than her tiny body showed. 

"Shh," Sera said, quietly, and let the little woman pull away. "I-I'm here to help, truly." The halfling paused, and fixed her with an unerring stare. Sera tried to smile - she hadn't in a long time. "I-I'm Sera. The Masters told me to help you." She glanced back toward the two sailors on guard duty; they were ignoring her, concentrating on a low stakes game of dice. When she turned back, the halfling was still, her eyes still focused up at her. "I promise I won't hurt you. I promise." 

"I believe you," the woman said, her words carrying the soft accent of the halfling language. Tears were welling up in her eyes. "I…I don't know why, but I believe you…" The tears rolled down her cheeks, drawing pinkish lines where they touched the dried blood. "Ah, what would Rufus think of me now?" 

Sera only nodded, not understanding, and pushed the woman down onto her bed of sacking. "Lie quiet. The guards won't like it if we talk." The woman nodded, and closed her eyes in a semblance of sleep. Sighing, Sera set to work. 

She was just cleaning the last bloodstains from the halfling's forehead when she felt a tickle at the base of her neck, as if someone was watching her. She turned quickly; a blank wall greeted her. The guards threw their dice once again, groaning at the outcome. The tickling sensation was still there, though diminished. Someone, she was sure, was watching her. But, then, her chain pulled her wrist, and she was forced up and past the guards, who grabbed drunkenly at her legs while she tripped through their dice circle. The watched feeling disappeared as she stumbled up the stairs, to be replaced by a new sensation as soon as she realized the chain tugged her toward Marius's room. The room was dark with shadows; she hated the dark. But, sometimes, surrendering to the fear is better than fighting it. 

It was late afternoon, the sun just passing a high curve of trees on the far bank. Sera stumbled, dragging the final bag of grain up from the brig to the kitchen. Each step hurt; Marius had been rough, pinching and bruising her already sore arms and legs. Apparently, something across the gangplank had annoyed him; he muttered about a gods-damned priest and his halfling lackey, and a half-elf girl barely past her first bleeding who skulked around the rigging like a monkey. The grain sack was bursting at the seams, the heaviest of the lot. The cook waited, tapping his foot. An extension was granted at Marius's order, but the cook was less than pleased at her tardiness. A long switch beat against his palm, itching to find her backside. 

A particularly hard tug almost threw her to the deck, and it was only the uncanny balance of a body used to the roll and pull of a ship at sea that kept her upright. But a hard sting across her shins made her drop all the same, and as her eyes found the deck, she saw her blunder; a small pool of grain was forming at her feet, where the sacks bursting seam had ripped on the rough planks. "Stupid girl," the cook muttered at he hit her again; Sera suppressed a cry and bent her back, trying to take away the worst of the blows. It did no good; another stinging lash burned across her spine, tearing the thin material of her shift. Warm blood spread thickly, like sap. "This'll teach ye to spill val'able grain, wench!" 

"Stop that!" At the low, husky sound of First Mate Malloren's voice the cook stopped still, switch raised above his hulking form. Sera dropped to her knees, a tear tracing a line down her cheek. Lady Malloren was harsh, and cruel with punishment. There was no hope of escape now - she was assured a swift and painful beating. 

"L-Lady Malloren!" The cook bowed low, dirty apron swishing against the deck. "I…I thought you and the cap'n were inspectin' th'other ship, milady!" 

"The inspection was cut short for me, unfortunately," the first mate replied. Sera looked up slowly, not wishing more lashes to be rained down upon her back. The lady looked as she always did: Black hair pulled to the nape of her neck with a fancy gold clip; deep, crimson eyes glowing hotly in the late sunlight; skin that rivaled Sera's winter coat in paleness. Her fine clothes were looser than she remembered, but Lady Malloren was vain, and apt to change clothes when she wished. A plain gold ring glittered on her right hand as well, and she seemed to finger it constantly. 

However, it wasn't the lady teifling that drew her attention; rather, it was the motley escort she appeared with, ranging from a small half-elven girl in dark clothes who regarded the entire crew with shifting eyes to a slightly taller woman, also of elven heritage, whose relaxed pose belied deadly force to a man with silver hair and priest's robes who towered above his three companions. The man looked down at her with shining, silvery eyes and furrowed his brow; Sera immediately ducked her head and began whispering apologies to whoever would listen. 

"…burst a seam, milady," the cook was saying over Sera's quiet mantra. "Ye know how the wench is. Needs a good beatin' to teach her a less'n." Sera saw him raise his switch again and cringed, bracing herself for the blow. It never came. 

"Not in front of guests," said Lady Malloren's voice. "We wouldn't want to make a bad first impression, now, would we?" Sera raised her head in disbelief; the cook's eyes were wide, staring at the exquisitely manicured hand that held his wrist limp. Lady Malloren's expression boded no argument. The cook almost whimpered, and stuttered. 

"N-no, milady!" he exclaimed, bobbing another low bow. Malloren smiled, and then winked at her three companions, letting go of the man's arm with a look of refined disgust. The girl grinned and stifled a giggle; the woman and man simply rolled their eyes. "Sorry, milady!" 

"Get on then. I'm sure one bag of grain won't make a difference." The first mate made a fleeing gesture with a graceful hand and watched the cook waddle as quickly as he could back to the kitchen and slam the door quickly. "Idiot. I can't believe how stupid some people can be." The girl giggled once again and began looking around more openly. 

"Some place though, huh? Wonder how much stuff they've got on a ship like this…probably ten times what the Dragon's Head holds." She glanced around, a look of cunning calculation in her eyes, and then looked down at the cowering thing kneeling before her. "Oopsie. Forgot about her, Tsornin." She pointed down; Sera cringed. People noticing her always got her in trouble. 

"Who?" Lady Malloren gave off fingering her ring and looked down. Her eyes widened, giving the impression of boiling wine. "Oh, her." A quick glance to the tall man, and she smiled. "All yours, Lachlan. Deirdre, Calliope, you come with me. We'll look for Meriane." The man nodded, and knelt down; Malloren took off in a graceful stride toward the stairway down, followed by the shifty girl and the remaining woman. 

Sera watched them go with wide eyes; nothing like this ever happened. Lady Malloren acting strangely, and a group of strangers appearing with her…it spoke of something decidedly odd, and Sera was very rightly confused. Then, a hand touched her shoulder, and she flinched reflexively. Turning scared eyes to the tall, silver-eyed man before her, she braced herself for the worst. 

"You're shaking like a leaf," the man said, partly to himself. Sera only nodded in assent and closed her eyes. Another hand touched her, very gently, on the cheek. "You don't have to be frightened of me, child. I won't hurt you; I want to help you." Again, Sera nodded, her teeth chattering fitfully. The blood on her back was drying in the suddenly cold air. "Ah, you're hurt…" The man muttered something under his breath and laid a cool hand across the broken skin of her back. 

Warmth spread across the welts, and Sera felt her skin heal safely and without scarring beneath his fingers. She struggled to bite back more teeth-chattering, and looked up once again into the man's sliver-grey eyes. He smiled comfortingly, and helped her sit up slowly. "I'm Lachlan," he said softly. 

Sera stared at him, her mind racing to make sense of it all. No one healed her, ever. Healing spells, like the one the man just used, were reserved for the officers exclusively, and any use of them other than by order was punishable by thirty lashes and a week on brig duty. Almost half of the scars criss-crossing her back were from early on in her captivity, when her former masters didn't realize iron blocked her spellcasting ability and beat her mercilessly when she healed herself in secret. Now this man, a stranger, was risking his own health to help her. She blinked slowly. 

The man spoke again. "Do you have a name?" he asked, letting his hands fall to his sides. A golden, ruby-studded symbol hung at his waist: a sign of Endiva, goddess of the sun. He was a powerful priest, to have a holy symbol like that. Sera blinked again and dropped her eyes to the deck, where scattered pieces of grain were blowing in the light breeze. The sky had darkened considerably; something told her a storm was brewing. 

"S-s-sera," she replied in a rush, beginning to gather the grain into the palms of her hands. Most of it had blown in a wide arc and into the rushing waters of the river, and even the seeds she recovered were inedible. They were dry and hard; Sera petted them absently with one finger, trying to coax a bit of life out of them. If they could be salvaged, she could spirit them away to her tiny cupboard and plant them, letting them grow into a companion to talk to during the long, swaying nights below deck. So far, she had no luck with such plans. The darkness was no place for a green thing to grow. 

"Sera…" Sera looked up as the man, Lachlan, spoke her name. He was smiling kindly. "Sera, what do you do here?" 

"I…I'm a servant, milord," she replied, confused. No one who saw her tangled hair, bruised arms, or torn, too-small shift ever asked her what she did. The answer always seemed obvious. "I do any work that needs to be done, milord. It…it's not so bad, all the time." She paused, biting her lip. "When they don't hurt me." Lachlan's eyes seemed to glow with something akin to anger, or rage; Sera shrunk away slightly, clasping the seeds in her hand protectively. Her chain rattled against the deck. Lachlan fixed it with a steely stare, as if he could break it with mere anger toward it. 

"A slave," he said to himself, gritting his teeth. He raised his eyes to her and nodded in determination. "Do you want to leave?" he asked. Sera only nodded mutely. He smiled and patted her cheek gently, not at all how Marius patted her after she lay with him. His fingers left no bruises. "Good, then." He rose to his feet, brushing stray bits of grain and chaff from his knees. Sera looked up; against the setting sun, he seemed to glow. 

"Can you get away and down to the prisoners' quarters?" he asked. Again, Sera only nodded, her heart beginning to beat very, very fast. This man wanted to take her away, away from the _Crossed Swords_ and Marius's bed…Her mind whirled with the possibilities. "Go there as soon as you can. The people down there will know what to do with you." Lachlan smiled a final time, and turned quickly, making his way among the crew. As Sera rose and began to drag the broken grain sack to the kitchen she heard him begin to ask questions to the crew in a loud voice. _A diversion_, her mind said sagely. Sera nodded to herself and went about her task with renewed vigor. Perhaps it would be the last time she would ever have to. 

She received a few choice slaps from the cook, mostly for making him look bad in front of Lady Malloren, but with no other task to assign her he reluctantly let her trot away, rubbing her upper arm discreetly. Lachlan, towering over all but the most brutish sailors, was still making a nuisance of himself, but smiled at her as he pretended to trip over a particularly small sailor Sera was convinced had goblin blood in him. She almost smiled back; Lachlan seemed to be a good man, a kind man. Not at all like the other men, who helped only to get her in return. A sudden, fear-filled thought burst in her mind: What if he _was_ like that? Sera bit her lip as she trotted down the first set of stairs and down the brightly lit hall that made up the officers' quarters. Marius's room was dark as she passed it, but there were no snores signaling the man to be simply sleeping. She picked up the pace, and was soon descending another staircase, and then a ladder that led to the brig. _He doesn't seem like…_her mind interjected; Sera silenced it and cautiously pushed open the heavy ironbound door that led to the prison. 

Low voices spoke at the end of the barred hallway, in the room where Marius kept the halfling woman. Picking her way through the damp, straw-laden floor, Sera pressed an ear to the barred door that led to the halfling's prison. 

"Put me in a sack? You want to put me in a _sack_?! Oh, I am _not_ letting you carry me around on your back like I'm some kind of…of _baggage_!" The telltale Halfling accent flowed musically around the words, and muffled struggling ensued. 

"It's only for a few minutes, Meriane," said another female voice. A giggle, most likely from the shifty-looking half-elf, followed. "We can't let anyone see you!" 

"You're _not_ putting me in a _sack_ like a piece of _meat_!" Meriane cried, and was suddenly muffled under a blanket of "Shh!" from three female voices. 

"Look, Meri, just calm down," said the third voice, sounding very much like Lady Malloren. Sera shivered, but didn't move. "Calliope said it'll only be for a few minutes, and I promise you, you'll be safe. I don't think we'll be fighting that much, anyway." 

"Oooh, there will be once I get my hands on those…those dirty-handed foul-mouthed orc-faced _kidnappers_!" The last word, a great shout, was followed by another volley of "Shh!" and several muttered phrases in Halfling. 

"Oh, that's it!" said the Malloren-voice, and there was the scrabble of tiny, rat-like feet. "Lan, go and find Lachlan. I want to get out of this hell-hole as quickly as possible." 

"Aye, aye!" said a small voice, and scampering followed. A tiny weight pushed against the door - Sera leaned away - and a small rat, completely dark grey with one white paw, scrambled out and onto the dirty straw. It lifted its nose and sniffed at Sera, who stared. Then, the rat seemed to smile. 

"Tsornin!" said the small voice, coming from the rat, "The girl with the chain is out here!" And as suddenly as it came it scampered away, heading for the ladder. Sera stared after it, too shocked to speak or move, even when the door pushed against her leg painfully. 

"I was wondering when he was going to send you down," said the Malloren-voice from somewhere above her, and Sera looked up into the glowing red eyes of the teifling first mate, who grinned at her. All strength left her, and she collapsed onto the ground, almost weeping with absolute fear. "Ahg, I forgot about this…" There was a strange, whooshing sound, and a hand, blessedly free of Malloren's sharp nails, touched her shoulder. "Hey, hey," said another, different voice, "Look, I'm not her anymore, see?" 

Sera raised her head slowly, wincing all the way, but instead of Lady Malloren a slightly shorter, much less demonic woman squatted in front of her. She wore the same clothes the first mate had worn, but they fit her curves better, and the long, brilliant red hair, though the same color as Malloren's eyes, hung loose past the woman's waist. Her eyes were clear green. 

"You're not her?" Sera breathed, relief flooding her body like rainwater. "But…" 

"Magic," the woman chimed with a grin, touching the gold ring on her right index finger. For a split second she became Malloren; then, just as quickly, she turned back to herself. Another grin spread across her pretty features. "Tsornin Varlay, bard and adventurer on the side," she said, bowing low. Sera almost smiled. 

Heavy footsteps on the stairway made her jump in fright, however, and a very serious expression came over Tsornin's face. "Gods be damned," she muttered, drawing the rapier at her side. "This is not what we need now. Better get out here, girls," she called behind her, "in case something needs doing." 

"What's going on?" said the voice belonging to the shifty-eyed girl, and both she and the other woman looked out the door. The woman, her hair a multitude of startling colors that couldn't possibly be natural, hitched a squirming pack further up on her back. Muffled cursing could be heard inside it. The stairs creaked again, and everyone tensed. Sera hid her face. 

Tsornin heaved a sigh of relief when Lachlan appeared at the end of the darkened hallway, ducking his head to prevent a nasty bump. Something squirmed under his robes. "Gods, Lachlan, did you want to scare us to death?" she said, sheathing her rapier with a relieved _shink_. Lachlan merely smiled and shook his robes; a small grey thing leaped out, and turned with a furry pop into a blue-grey cat the size of a leopard. Sera whimpered in spite of herself. 

The cat trotted to Tsornin's side and sat down, rubbing one paw across its nose. Then, it turned its head, coming face to face with Sera. "Hello," it said, making Sera go wide-eyed with both curiosity and apprehension. The cat looked up at Tsornin, who patted it absently on the head as she smoothed down a lock of hair that had escaped in the almost-battle. "I think I scared her, Tsornin." 

"She's just jumpy, Lan," Tsornin replied, with an encouraging, if distracted smile to Sera. Sera only pulled her knees to her chest, ignoring the fiery protests of her sore muscles. Her chain, still as sturdy as ever, glittered like fitful torchlight. The cat continued to watch her, head cocked to the side. 

"We'll need a distraction," Lachlan said, kneeling down beside Sera. He picked up her chain, testing it with both hands. Sera watched out of the corner of her eye as Tsornin muttered to herself, and then threw her hair over her shoulder and marched into the prison proper. 

"Leave the distraction to me," she said with a grin. "Whipping people into frenzies is my specialty." Lachlan sighed, and began fussing with the chain again. 

Sera watched for a few minutes as he tried breaking it with pure force, and then with spells. The catch around her wrist and ankle had a frost spells around them, making the clasp all but impossible to undo without hands so frozen the fingertips broke off. Deirdre, the shifty girl, and Calliope, the many-colored woman, gathered around to watch the process. 

"It - It won't come off," Sera said finally, sighing deeply. "One of the captains has to take it off…" She trailed off as she lifted her head and found Lachlan staring into her eyes with a look of fierce determination. 

"We're getting you out of here," he said as rallying cries sounded from the barred prison cells ten feet away. Tsornin's voice could be heard, calling words of praise and luck as a stampede of underfed bodies and unshod feet tumbled up the stairs and into the crew quarters. Tsornin poked her head into their cell. 

"Come on, guys," she said, some urgency to her voice, "we've only got a few minutes before the big baddies quell this revolution! Have you got her out yet?" 

"I'm trying," Lachlan snapped, and began muttering a prayer in the Celestial language. Deirdre and Calliope, with Meriane's head sticking over her shoulder, backed away as tendrils of magic seemed to waft from the priest's hands and surround the chain in glowing white smoke. Sera screwed her eyes shut and braced herself for…for something, though she was unsure of what. The room was deadly quiet, though sounds of heated battle raged overhead. 

There was a flash of light that flared before her eyelids, and Sera suddenly felt…_different_. Suddenly, she could feel the eddies in the stale air, and hear the water lapping up against the hull of the ship. Divine energies tingled all around her, and she could almost see them. The tingle of the chain no longer invaded her senses, befuddling her mind and leaving her in a fog of terror and submission. 

A strong hand took her wrist gently and pulled at the iron clasp. Sera chanced a look: Before her very eyes, the iron shackle that had held her to the ship for more than twenty seasons shattered like glass under Lachlan's fingers, littering the ground with dull black fragments that all but disintegrated into dust when they hit the damp planks. The ankle clasp did the same. Sera stared at her hands, the right wrist a slightly shiny patch of scar tissue from the rough iron. 

Lachlan's hands tightened around her wrist, and he spoke another spell, causing the room to erupt in bright light that hurt her eyes. She closed them, and the planks under her feet vanished with a roar of divine magic. When she landed, she was crumpled on dry, polished planks in a well-lit room, surrounded by her saviors. Through a small porthole she could see the familiar dark red hull of the _Crossed Swords_. She stared, in a daze. Unchained, at last. Freedom, at last. She felt herself begin to cry, and didn't care. She was free. _Free._

Tsornin disappeared out the room's single door, dragging Calliope and Deirdre with her. Lan followed after a final look toward the crumpled Sera. Meriane, having successfully untangled herself from the rough, dirty sack that held her, began straightening her skirt and blouse, slightly huffy. "Imagine, me in a sack," she muttered. Lachlan smiled, and touched Sera's shoulder; she jumped, frightened out of her daze. 

"All right, Sera?" he asked softly. Sera nodded slowly, tears still flowing down her cheeks, and looked up at him. He smiled a comforting smile, and sat down beside her. "You don't have to be frightened," he continued, still in the same soft voice. One of his arms slid gently around her shoulders; she leaned into it, against his shoulder. "We'll keep you safe now." 

"Thank you," was all she could say, "thank you, thank you, thank you…" Then the door burst open with a bang that made Sera jump and cling to Lachlan's chest, and a very small, very angry man stomped in. 

"Where is she?" he demanded, his dark hair flopping over his blue eyes in a rather becoming way. Lachlan gestured toward the corner, where Meriane was shaking the last bits of sacking from her long hair, and the man - halfling, rather - threw himself at her. "Meri!" he said in a voice almost choked with tears, "Meri, oh, gods, Meri!" 

"Rufe!" Meri turned just in time to be caught in the halfling's strong embrace, and hugged him back as tightly as she could. As she pulled away, Rufe caught her cheeks and kissed her soundly on each one several times. Meri laughed heartily and tried to push him away. "You can't get rid of me that easily, Rufus Dardragon," she said, smiling with a hint of shyness. Rufus only grinned charmingly and embraced her once again, squeezing her as tight as she would let him. Sera watched, a faint smile on her face. Lachlan chuckled softly, shaking his head. 

Rufus spun Meriane around once more and then set her down on her feet with a thump that rattled the candleholders on their shelves. "Excellent job, my friend priest," he said then, stepping over to clap the sitting Lachlan on the shoulder. Even sitting, the tall man was almost the halfling's height. "They suspected nothing, as far as I can see." 

Lachlan nodded, silvery hair falling in front of his eyes as he did. "I hope you see truly," he replied softly, and then stood up. Sera watched him stand, wondering if she should as well. Straightening his robes, he glanced down at her. "Stay here," he said, gesturing to the wide, comfortably furnished bed beside her. "There may be trouble above deck for now, so lay low and get some sleep." Sera nodded slowly, and rose on shaking legs. At her side, Meri clucked at her in a motherly fashion. 

"Lie yourself down, child," she said, pushing her legs toward the bed. "I'll stay with her, Lachlan. She cared for me on that ship, so I'll return the favor, yes?" Sitting down, Sera nodded again and glanced up at Lachlan. She didn't want him to leave; he made her feel safe in her strange, new freedom. Although, she was exhausted, and the halfling woman was friendly and the bed was very, very soft…She caught a smile from Lachlan as he stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind him. In the shadows of the hallway, his eyes glowed silver. And then, she let herself sink into the warm coverlet and close her eyes, sleeping deeply and fully for the first time she could remember. 

Soft talking woke Sera from a deep, restful sleep, and she opened her eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the darkened room. Confusion crept through her mind as she glanced around, not moving, and then remembered in a flash that she was no longer a prisoner of the _Crossed Swords_ and was, in fact, lying safe and warm in a large, comfortably soft bed, the soft rocking motion a tell-tale sign of a docked ship. Calming her rapidly beating heart, she squinted in the dim light and could make out two small figures sitting side by side on the bed opposite her: halflings, the two from before. They spoke in hushed tones. 

"…scared the hell out of me," said Rufus. He ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed. "And when Lachlan scryed for you and I could see your blood everywhere…Gods, Meri, I thought I'd lost you." 

Meriane laughed very softly; in the darkness it looked like she had changed her clothes, into a darker skirt and blouse. Her hair was indistinguishable from the shadows behind her. "They only banged me around a bit," she said, "and only when I struggled. That slimy bugger what kidnapped me didn't want me hurt." She shook her head from side to side. "Lucky for him he gagged me, or I would have bitten him, the nasty orc-faced pretty boy." A flash of white teeth in a grin made Rufus laugh. 

"That's my girl," he pronounced, and Sera thought she saw him lean in toward her. Meri laughed and pushed him away. 

"Oh, no, you don't," she said with a hearty laugh. "You're not getting me this easily…" She trailed off as there was a loud thump directly overhead; Sera jumped, scared out of her half doze, and clutched the blankets to her chin. 

"What on earth…" Meri began, hopping to the wooden floor and straightening her skirt. Rufus narrowed his eyes, all laugher gone from his voice. Shouts filtered down through the open porthole, indistinct and angry. 

"Methinks the good Captain Wade has discovered our little ruse," he said softly, and reached for a finely made scabbard sitting on the bed beside him, holding what looked like a short sword. He tipped a bow in Meri and Sera's direction. "Worry not, pretty ladies, for I, Rufus Dardragon, slayer of dragons and other generally evil things shall protect your freedom!" He rose with a grin and strode to the door, pulling it open. "Save a kiss for me, Meri!" And he disappeared into the dark hallway. Sera watched him go with fascination. The tiny man had a way of seeming _much_ taller than three feet. 

"You be careful!" Meri called after him as he shut the door behind him with a snap. Her hands clutched at the hem of her skirt and wrung it nervously. "If you get yourself killed, I'll never forgive you…" Sera, wide awake, pulled the warm blankets in a cocoon around her as another loud thump, followed by muffled cries, sounded above their heads. 

"Is there trouble?" she asked in a quiet voice, curiosity overcoming her desire to remain inconspicuous. Indistinct shouts sounded above deck; Meriane climbed onto the bed and pet Sera's hair in a comforting gesture. She looked very worried. 

"Nothing Captain Briesza and the rest of the crew can't handle," she whispered as she settled down beside Sera, holding the larger woman's hands tightly. "We'll be safe here." 

The two women huddled together on the bed, Sera burying her face against the halfling's shoulder and Meriane brushing the girl's long, tangled hair with her small fingers. Above them the sounds of heated battle raged, though they couldn't distinguish between sounds and had no idea how their friends fared. Through the porthole Sera could still see the hull of the _Crossed Swords_, rising and falling with the river current. She had bitten her lip so hard that spots of blood stained her worn shift. 

It was over fifteen minutes later when the erratic thumping and pounding of people engaged in battle stopped suddenly, and everything became deadly quiet. Meri, pacing in the short open space between the room's two beds, raised her head to stare up, as if the ceiling would disappear and give her a clear view of what was happening above deck. In her right hand she clutched a heavy iron ladle, taken from her domain, the kitchen. In her left was a wickedly sharp architect's compass, stolen from the neatly organized desk at the far end of the room. It belonged to Burgell, the ship's navigator and resident wizard, a jumpy gnome who shared the room with Lachlan. Meri explained this to Sera; neither of them had seen another member of the _Dragon's Head's_ crew since Rufe had left them. 

"That's it!" said Meri, after both women stared at the ceiling for an endless minute of silence. "I'm going up there, and if there are any of those - those _bastards_ left, I'm going to show them not to mess with _this halfling_!" And brandishing both ladle and compass, she marched out of the room, skirt swishing in time with the thump of her heeled boots on the deck. 

Frightened and wildly confused, but unwilling to stay in the now dark room alone, Sera followed on silent, bare feet as Meri led her down a darkened hallway and to a wide set of stairs. The sound and light of a burning fire crackled before them; Sera had a unwilling image of having to jump from a huge, burning ship into the cold, fast river water below. She shivered; her masters had forbidden her learning to swim, knowing that no person with half a mind would willing try to escape in an ocean without knowing how to stay afloat. But, if it came to a choice, she would take the water over the fire. 

Meri stomped up the stairs, her mouth set in a grim line. The firelight flickered around her body as she disappeared upstairs; Sera followed, hugging the wall with caution, prepared to run at the least noise. The sight that greeted her almost threw her into shock. 

It was a small ship, half the size of a galley ship and sporting two huge, snow white sails flapping in the now cold autumn breeze. Neither was burning; the fire, a small one, was burning merrily in a large brazier near the main mast, where a large orcish sailor was overseeing the disposal of a wrapped bundle that looked suspiciously like a body. Deirdre and Calliope were gathered around a small pile of weapons and armor, picking through their findings and holding up jewels and gold coins to examine them by the firelight. Tsornin, sporting a finely made cloak that Sera knew belonged to Lady Malloren, knelt beside a dwarf dressed in the clothes of an officer, bandaging his right arm. The dwarf was protesting furiously, but Tsornin tied off the strip of cloth serving as a bandage and kissed his cheek. Blushing furiously, the dwarf swatted her away; Tsornin grinned and winked at him before sauntering toward Deirdre and Calliope's pile. The cat, Lan, frolicked around her feet, turning from cat to rat to monkey to puppy and back to cat in lightning succession. Sera blinked, and continued to look around. 

Her eyes fell on a small group clustered ten feet from the staircase: A half-elven woman with long blonde hair knelt beside a still figure sprawled out on the deck. Beside her, arm around her shoulders, stood Rufe. Both sported cuts and bruises, torn clothing and hair matted with blood. A bloodstained longsword, strangely dull, lay at the woman's side, but she merely stared down at the crumpled figure before her, whispering, "Alic," in a low, hoarse voice and holding one of his limp, slender hands. 

Sera took a step forward, peering down at the fallen Alic. He was a handsome man, slim with dusky gray skin and silver-white hair that blew when the wind picked up. She could see faintly pointed ears as well, pierced with silver hoops. His eyes were closed; he looked asleep. The woman ducked her head and bit back a sob. 

"Brie, it's okay," Rufus said softly as the woman leaned into his embrace more. "Lachlan said he could bring him back, Brie. Come on, don't cry. He'll be back…" The woman only nodded and hugged Rufe tightly, not heeding his warnings about the injuries they both suffered. Blood mingled with tears on her pretty face. Sera looked away, not wanting to see it. 

Her eyes scanned the crowd: Tsornin was now showing off her new cloak to any sailor who would watch (and several were making a point to); Deirdre slashed a fancy rapier through the air with a satisfied _shwish_; Calliope calmly washed spots of blood from her hands in a bucket of river water; Lachlan sat alone, eyes closed, lips moving in silent prayer. Near the brazier Meriane kicked another wrapped cloth bundle, muttering in Halfling and spitting. 

A wind picked up, blowing the tarp-like material off the bundle. The orcish sailor and three other, more human crew members picked up the limp body of Marius and threw it into the flames. Sera watched, speechless, as the fire flared sweetly, and it seemed like the wind purposely whipped the smoke around her in a choking hold. She coughed and blinked watery eyes, and then stared into the flames as they consumed the body. Nothing could make her eyes leave it, not even the tearful reunion of a newly resurrected Alic and the lady Captain Briesza, nor Meriane's tugging on the hem of her meager shift, calling her name in a worried voice. 

"Sera? Sera!" Lachlan swam into view in front of her, and she tore her eyes away from the smoldering remains of the fire and looked up at him. How long she had watched the flames burn she didn't know. He looked worried, dirty, and very tired. "What's wrong?" 

"I…I…" She couldn't find the words to explain. How does one explain that she had seen Marius dead before, during a raid gone wrong, but a man with crazed red eyes and needle-sharp horns on his forehead had spoken garbled words and brought the life back into his body as easily as Lachlan had done with the now sleeping man cradled like a child in Briesza's arms? She didn't trust her eyes, even when they saw Marius's body burning to ash. 

"Sera! Sera, look at me!" She blinked and refocused her eyes on Lachlan. He was holding her shoulders tightly, his face mere inches from her own. Up close, his eyes truly _did_ glow silver. He made a wide gesture with one hand; her eyes followed, and saw that neither the _Crossed Swords_ nor the rest of the small fleet were docked beside the boat. "They're gone," he said, squeezing her shoulders slightly. Sera nodded, trying to banish the images of Marius rising from the ashy brazier, grasping hands coming to squeeze the life from her thin, fragile body. She looked down at her own hands; they shook like autumn leaves in a rainstorm. 

"You need rest," Lachlan's voice said in her ear, and he lifted her body with hardly any effort. She struggled, a flashing image of Marius still in front of her eyes, before common sense made her lay quiet in his arms, and closed her eyes until she felt soft blankets beneath her. Lachlan's hands disappeared, and the bed creaked as he sat beside her, pulling the coverlet up around her shoulders. Sera opened her eyes and stared up at him, clutching the blanket. 

"Is…is he really gone?" she asked in a voice barely above a whisper. She couldn't stop herself from shaking. Lachlan nodded, smiling, and rose to light one of the room's three glass-chambered candles, throwing light and shadows across the bed and onto the walls. Outside the porthole the sky was dark and sprinkled with stars. The flickering candlelight calmed her; she breathed deeply of the fresh, night air. "I…thank you…" she whispered. "No…no one's ever done anything like this for me…" 

Lachlan sat down beside her once again. "I find that hard to believe," he said, smiling kindly. Sera smiled in turn; the slight warmth of his body was strangely comforting, though a small voice in her head told her he was a man, and men only ever wanted one thing from her. She closed her eyes, but words came unbidden to her lips. 

"Am I yours now?" she blurted out, mouth twisting in surprise at her own voice's strength. Lachlan's eyes widened, and he shook his head vigorously, rising from the bed as he did. Sera sank lower into the bed, covering all but her eyes. He was mad, now… "I'm sorry…" 

"No, no," he said, a strange half-laugh escaping his lips. He seemed to be blushing. "You belong to yourself now," he continued, running a hand through shoulder-length silver hair. "No one owns you. No one will again." He wasn't meeting her eyes. Sera sat up a bit, and let the blanket fall past her chin. 

"Are you mad at me…?" she asked after a moment of tense silence. Lachlan half-laughed again and shook his head. The blush receded from his cheeks and ears slowly. 

"I…I should let you sleep, then," he said, nodding to himself. He still looked troubled; Sera sat up further and almost reached a hand out to him. _Such a nice man_, a voice behind her eyes said softly. _You've upset him now_. 

"No," she called out as he turned for the door; he stopped, surprised, and swung around to face her once more, looking confused. Sera let her hand fall and gathered the blanket to her chin once again. "Stay…please?" she asked in a small, soft voice. "I-I'm afraid…of the dark. It gives me nightmares…" 

The candlelight flickered in a breeze from the open porthole, illuminating the glow from Lachlan's eyes. _Light to chase the shadows away_, Sera thought, and chanced a small, genuine smile at him. As she hoped, he returned the smile, and moved to sit beside her on the bed once again. Unafraid, Sera curled herself up under the blankets as he rummaged in a small pack pushed under the bed frame. A moment later, her half-closed eyes saw him pull out a small set of panpipes, and soon the soft sound of fey music joined the flickering light of the candles in a orchestrated lullaby that soon had Sera sleeping, soundly and without fear, dreaming of shadows and the sun chasing them far, far away.   


* * *

**A/N**:If you didn't understand it, don't blame yourself. This was taken almost directly from a game I run, and without prior knowledge of the setting, it can get a bit confusing. I might write the story of the whole campaign one day, when I have time. *sigh* I don't have time, though. Argh. If anyone is actually interested in hearing the whole story, or wants to know more about the characters or setting in general, leave a review or email me, and I'll see what I can do. 

The campaign setting belongs to Liz, who runs a slew of games there and allowed me the use of it for my own campaign. Aasimar Cleric Lachlan also belongs to her (can you tell he's my favorite?); Vaguely Elven Thief Deirdre belongs to Jill, and Multicolored Monk Calliope belongs to Rose. Don't take them. All other characters are mine; don't take them, either. 

A few clarifications: Durene is the goddess of nature and mother of the gods. Endiva is the goddess of the sun. 

Sera's a half-dryad druid, by the way. Her father was a lucky, lucky man. 

Feedback is lovely and makes me smile. Review? 


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